Feels Eater
by MadMenagerie
Summary: Another day in another new city; at least this one was appropriately named. Death City, Nevada; yeah, he'd fit right in here. It sounded like the perfect place for him, so much so that part of him wanted to allow himself to settle in, hopefully counting on this town to never run dry of what he needed.
1. Strange New City

**A/N: **This was inspired by a prompt from maxkirin. His blog is amazing and full of fabulous writing prompts and advice so please go visit and give love. I give credit for the prompt and the title to him. Thank you for the inspiration.

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><p>Another day in another new city; at least this one was appropriately named. Death City, Nevada; yeah, he'd fit right in here. It sounded like the perfect place for him, so much so that part of him wanted to allow himself to settle in, hopefully counting on this town to never run dry of what he needed. The more rational part of his brain however, told him to not even unpack his boxes. There was no use, it was only a matter of time before he'd have to pack them again.<p>

His new apartment was small and a little run down, the paint and plaster chipped away in some places to show worn brick walls underneath. An old building for sure, he liked those; old buildings held the most emotions. The lighting was dim, only a few narrow windows on one wall. The glass panes were dingy, letting in muted sunlight in a soft haze. A thread-bare couch and chipped wooden table and chair came included in the cash-only price of the room. He considered himself lucky in that regard, he wasn't really able to carry furniture with him as he migrated from city ton city. Even though this flat was a new one, it was familiar. It was very much the same as every other one he'd lived in, in all the other countless and nameless cities that he filtered through.

"Filter." What a perfect word for it. His existence in a singular term. He'll do the same here and be off again to a new place full of sadness, despair, anxiety, fear, and worry. It's what he lived for, or rather kept him alive. There really wasn't a difference between the two for him. He lived to eat and he ate to survive, and that was the totality of his life. It was a shame though, this city felt different, as if somehow he already felt at home. It certainly was a strange place, among the mix of what he considered "normal' humans, he passed quite a number of unique teenagers with their brightly colored hair and unnatural colored contacts. It almost made him smile seeing such individuality compared to the average bustling businessmen and women in the crowded streets that looked like exact replicas of each other.

One of those kids with bright blue hair and aqua colored eyes had been standing on a large statue screaming something as he carried his few belongings up to his newly acquired apartment. What a humorous sight to have seen the very first moments having entered the city from the long stretch of desert that surrounded it. He had simply shaken his head, the chaotic white tufts of his hair swaying along. "What an idiot." was his thought, but inwardly he felt a little more at ease. His stark white hair and blood red eyes were considered strange in most places he went. It wasn't exactly a common look for a teenage-looking boy. Of course he wasn't really a teenager, he wasn't even human. He was usually able to fend off questions by claiming albinism, his habit of sleeping during the day and avoiding sunlight helped to reinforce that. In reality the sun didn't bother him in the slightest, it was just much easier to _feed_ at night; when only the lonely and depressed were awake drinking away their sorrows.

His excuse never prevented the staring though. Everywhere he went people stared, as if they knew he was a monster just by sight. It also didn't explain the way his teeth were sharpened to a point. He did his best to hide it, he never smiled and talked as little as possible but it was still always noticed by a few people in each city. He usually made his exit soon after, both having drained all he could and to avoid more suspicious questions. Maybe that's what caught him off guard about this place. He hadn't been stared at yet. He'd been looked at sure, the building manager and the unusual kids had noticed his arrival; but not one had specifically stared with the usual narrowed eyes laced with fear and disgust. The blue-haired idiot had even smiled at him, giving him a big thumb's up as he passed. It shocked and unnerved him and he shook his body in contempt. Whatever this feeling was that was ebbing on the edges of his soul, he couldn't afford it.

He stretched himself out on the provided dingy sofa, thanking his lucky stars. A squeaky, rough couch was a much better sleeping place than the floor. He pulled his arms up to rest underneath his head to use as a pillow and frowned, thinking of the strange air about this new temporary home and the way the kids in the park across from his building just smiled at him like he was no different than them, how the manager handed him the keys with no apprehension what-so-ever. It almost made him angry and he turn to his side harshly in the frustration of it and closed his eyes. It was almost noon and he really should have been sleeping by now anyway.


	2. Ready For Feasting

**A/N: **This was inspired by a prompt from maxkirin. His blog is amazing and full of fabulous writing prompts and advice so please go visit and give love. I give credit for the prompt and the title to him. Thank you for the inspiration.

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><p>His eyes shot open, pupils dilated in the darkness, his mouth was parted open revealing the glint of his sharpened fangs. He looked reminiscent of a shark who'd gotten a whiff of fresh blood nearby. He felt driven, electric, and alive; an animalistic instinct that all predators share. He didn't need to know what time it was; his body told him it was time to eat.<p>

He sat up, yawning loudly then wiping the drool from his cheek. Long fingers ran through the fluffy white strands of his hair. He didn't bother to change his dark jeans and orange shirt as he stood and stretched, enjoying the rushing feeling in his veins as the mixture of hormones and chemicals surged through his blood as they did every night. Where he was going no one would care about his appearance. He shrugged on a high-collared, black leather jacket ready to begin.

His neck twisted at a horrible looking angle until it cracked and he opened the window above the fire escape outside, breathing in the night air surrounding this new city. It was always the biggest rush to taste the first night of a new place. Every town tasted different and this one piqued his curiosity intensely. What would the city of death taste like? He drooled again in the anticipation of thinking about it. He took a deep breath in, opening his senses, looking for the most concentrated area of the city. A few places popped up on his radar immediately. The usual bars and clubs, the hospital, and of course all the graveyards. He was more interested in the first options; graveyards always tasted stale and were his last resort. He preferred living people; they were ripe and almost bursting.

He was ready, excited, and his muscles tensed as he bounded out the window and skillfully scaled the black painted metal fire escape on the side of the building. He didn't make a single sound, unnaturally light on his feet as to not wake the residents. In his customary routine he stopped at every window on his floor. He always tested out his neighbors first, why else would he pick the oldest most run-down accommodations. They held the most run-down and depressed people. They were the tastiest, he always chose sadness over fear or worry. He preferred despair and hopelessness over anxiety and hatred. Emotions were like complex and diverse wines. No two people ever tasted the same. The concentrations were always different, always a new mixture; like songs. There may be some that are similar but it's impossible to replicate every note.

He quietly moved to the window next to his, his first victim. He grinned dangerously in the moonlight, the chemicals and pulses of his feast radiating out from the glass that he lightly scratched his fingers against. A young girl, his mouth watered. They were usually so full of emotions he could feed on them for weeks and he was eager to move in. The rush of ash blonde hair caught his eye before the dim light did and he ducked back quickly, scowling. She was awake. Dammit. He'd have to wait; he glared into the window from the side so she couldn't see him. Pigtails? How old was this bitch? He was sure she lived alone, but it didn't really matter, child or not she still had what he wanted.

Inside she walked across the room and he was able to see a little more of her. She definitely wasn't a kid, although from the size of her chest you wouldn't be able to notice; he quietly snickered. It was only because she was rifling through school papers that he realized she was old enough to be on her own. She looked delicious. Good thing she was right next door. He moved slightly to continue on his rounds, he didn't have time to sit and stare. He was almost to the next window when he realized that her eyes were fixed on where he had just been standing. He stopped, cautious; he certainly didn't want to be caught on his first night. It had only happened once, when he first started needing this food source.

Her forest green irises stared intently on the corner of her window that previously held her stalker. She hadn't seen him, he was sure of it, but she looked like she was certain of an intruder and was simply waiting for him to come out. They stayed locked in that position for a few minutes until she gave up, but not before flicking her eyes to the other side where he was currently before looking down at her schoolwork once more. He stepped back, suddenly aware that he was sweating. His mind must be playing tricks on him, it was impossible for her to have seen or heard him. Although not invisible, he had certain advantages in perception. Leaving no traces of his travels, silencing the sounds of his movement, moving faster than any human possible could, were only a few of the tricks up his sleeves. But she had looked right at him, not seeing him but in his direction, with a look on her face that beckoned him to come out. A game of hide and seek he didn't know he was playing, and he was stubbornly refusing to admit his hiding place after she'd clearly found him.

His scowl depened and he forwent the rest of the building in favor of scanning the rest of this strange district. His stomach rumbled and his cursed. He'd have to find something small tonight, the people here might not be as easy targets as he's used to.


End file.
